


The One That Got Away

by Kabby_Kru



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: 1990s teen kabby, F/M, Forbidden Love, High School Reunion AU, Modern AU, Nostalgia, Social Status, a country kabby au, and Teen! kabby, dual time periods, just something fun for myself, middle aged kabby, very Nicholas Sparks-esque, warning: will contain southernisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-03-08 05:35:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 17,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18888208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kabby_Kru/pseuds/Kabby_Kru
Summary: He's a Kane, she's a Walters. They were never meant to fall in love, but when Marcus Kane arrives late his first day of chemistry lab, he takes the only remaining seat beside one Abigail Walters. The semester spent fumbling over words and test tubes soon turns their relationship into more than just lab partners. Their differing social statuses seems to be a problem for everyone but them. When life and family gets in the way, a wedge is driven between the young couple from the southern coastal town of Oriental, North Carolina.Now, in 2020, it's the 25-year high school reunion. The unmarried Marcus Kane had heard rumors that she was back in town, but he found it hard to believe. When the recently widowed Abigail Walters-Griffin enters the banquet hall of the country club where the reunion is taking place, he knows exactly what he has to do.Will they be able to make up for lost time? Or has it been too long and the teenage infatuation is something far in the past for them both?Inspired by "The Best of Me" by Nicholas Sparks.





	1. Old Friends

_May, 2020_

            “I can’t believe you talked me into this, Theo.”

            Marcus Kane stood with his back propped up against the bar, an old fashioned in hand, as he shook his head at his best friend Thelonious Jaha. Marcus had never been one for parties, and he always swore that he would never attend any high school reunions—he’d skipped out on the 10 year reunion a decade ago—but after hearing rumors that _she_ was back in town, he just had to see if she’d show up. With a little encouragement from Theo, saying that he’d be there for him to talk to throughout the evening, he thought why the hell not. If she didn’t show, at least they had an open bar.

            The 10 year reunion had been held in their high school gymnasium, but as they tore the school down 5 years ago, the 25 year reunion was held at the country club in one of the nicer parts of Oriental. A banner in the school colors of red and black hung proudly outside the doors with the freshly painted letters “CLASS OF 1995” scrawled across the front. He was told that Roan Wilson had made the banner in haste, just like he did for all of his assignments in school.

            Marcus nervously toyed with the buttons on his burgundy button down shirt as Theo rambled on about his last golf game that took place on that very course and how he went with Jacapo Sinclair and that he swears Sinclair always cheats. Marcus was only half-listening, his eyes scanning the room of what everyone else was wearing. He had changed shirts 4 times that evening as he was getting dressed. He’d never attended a high school reunion and he wasn’t sure what people wore to them. Casual? Business casual? Formal wear? After tearing off the 3rd shirt and throwing it into a crumbled ball across his master bedroom, he gave up and texted Theo, knowing full well he was going to catch shit for it, but he didn’t care. He thought it better to ask his best friend for advice than to show up looking like an ass. When he got the text back that it was “dressy casual,” a term which he had to Google, he decided on the burgundy shirt and a pair of dark jeans accompanied by black oxfords. Most of the people in attendance were those who he saw on a regular basis, it being such a small town, but it was one person in particular that he wanted to impress. That is, if she showed up.

            Occasionally the pair of men would leave their spots at the bar in attempts to be social and greet their former classmates. Marcus was delighted to see his best friends Charmaine and Paxton, who were expecting their first child together. He greeted them both with a hug and congratulated them on their child-to-be, who they were planning on naming Hope. Charmaine and Paxton dated all throughout high school, having met in JROTC. Soon after graduation, they decided to join the Army. Lacking any other plan or options, and much to Marcus’ mother’s dismay, he loaded his things into the back of Paxton’s Pontiac and headed to Fort Jackson with his two best friends where they completed their basic training together.

            Marcus loved his mom, he did. She did her best by him and he could never remember a time where she wasn’t working at least two jobs to feed and clothe him. Meanwhile, his dad never did anything but beat up on him and his mom before bailing on both of them when Marcus was 14. Being an only child, and his mom having no husband to distract her, he often felt smothered by his mother as he grew older. At 19, his world came crashing down on him, fast, and he felt that he needed to escape. In his mind, joining the service was his only option, so that’s what he did.

            Standing near the gym’s entrance, he told Paxton and Charmaine that he’d talk to them later and that they should have dinner one night together before the baby comes. They agreed and parted ways, going around talking to other alumni about parenting strategies and how they’re choosing for an all-natural birth. He couldn’t help but smile as he watched them, Charmaine with her hand resting proudly on her very pregnant belly. A wife and children was always something that Marcus had envisioned for himself, but at 44 years old, he had given up on the dream.

            It wasn’t that dates were hard to come by for him. As he got older and grew into his features, he turned out to be a rather striking man. A strong chin, prominent nose, naturally tanned skin, and dark, wavy hair were a few things that he often received compliments on. Which, ironically, were the things he was most insecure about in school. After being honorably discharged from the Army 5 years ago and becoming a paramedic, Marcus received countless offers from women, and men, to go out with them. All of which he declined. He didn’t want to die alone, in fact, he was terrified of it, but he knew he’d be doing himself and his partner a disservice if he were to marry, because none of them were _her_ and he knew that he’d never be able to love anyone like he loved _her_. He simply refused to settle.

            He and Theo made their way back to their safe space at the bar, meeting up with Sinclair there. Marcus ordered himself a glass of Jack Daniels, knowing full well that alcohol was the only thing to help him through this night. Marcus sat on a barstool in a daze as Theo and Sinclair bantered over golf, waiting for the night to end and wondering if he could sneak off early. He mulled over how he wished the DJ hadn’t been running late, that way he’d at least have some music to listen to. Lost in his own thoughts, he’d began to tune the two men out until he noticed their conversation come to a halt.

            “She’s here,” Theo said, tapping Marcus on the shoulder. Marcus turned to see her honey locks flowing to the side as she made her way over to her same group of friends she’d had since Freshman year of high school. She hugged Callie first, she and Callie being the closest out of the group, before greeting Aurora and Diana with hugs, as well. He couldn’t peel his eyes off of her as they roamed over her still-tiny body. Jesus, had she not changed at all? He wondered to himself if she ever had children. She certainly didn’t look like it. Her black skinny jeans hugged everything just the right way, and Marcus thanked the universe that the baggy jean styles were no longer in fashion like they were when they were in high school. He thought he saw a glimpse of cleavage peaking out of her low-cut top, but her back was now turned to him, so he couldn’t be sure. As he continued staring, he felt a pain in his jaw. He hadn’t noticed how he’d been clenching his teeth that entire time. He rubbed at his jaw as Theo nudged him in the ribs.

            “You gonna go talk to her?”

            Marcus inhaled sharply and downed his whiskey, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. She was the sole reason he came and the one person he had been waiting on all evening. For the first time in 25 years, he was going to speak to Abigail Walters.      


	2. Chemistry Lab

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's January, 1994 and Abigail Walters enters her last class of the day, chemistry lab. Marcus Kane arrives late, taking the remaining seat beside Abby. Spending a semester fumbling over words and test tubes, the unexpected pair grow incredibly close.

_Spring semester, 1994_

            Abigail Walters stepped into her last class of the day just as the first bell rang. It was chemistry lab and she had been looking forward to it all day long. Her eyes scanned the room and landed on her two friends, Diana and Aurora. She gave them a quick wave before choosing the seat in front of them, positioned right in the front of the classroom. Most students would have been worried about picking a spot right in the front, evident by the front seats still being empty, but Abby didn’t mind as it gave her a chance to pay close attention to the lessons, and the bonus was that she had a window seat with a beautiful view of the nearby lake.

            As the handsomely rugged Mr. Shepherd passed out the syllabus to the class and casually introduced himself, Marcus Kane entered the classroom, his backpack slung over one shoulder, his dark, unruly curly hair falling into his face. He smiled a faint, crooked smile at Mr. Shepherd and gave a nod. His eyes roamed the room, all seats now empty but one. She couldn’t help but stare at him as he stood in the doorway. When he caught her staring, despite her racing heart, she managed a smile and a quick wave. He smiled back and took his seat beside Abby. She could already hear her friends giggling behind her. She mentally rolled her eyes. They could be so immature at times. As soon as he sat down, they’d began to whisper about his raggedy, old, red converse shoes and his faded flannel shirt, and Abby hoped against hope that he didn’t hear them, too.

            “Hi Marcus.” Abby said warmly, greeting him with a radiant, white smile. Whenever she said words like “hi” or “my,” her cousins from Cincinnati always laughed at her. She’d always simply shrug at their comments; she was proud of who she was and where she was from.

            “Hi Abby,” he replied with a shy, crooked grin, his “hi” coming out the same way as Abby’s.

            They had known one another practically all of their lives but very rarely did their social circles meet. Marcus was in a band whilst Abby was a cheerleader, up until last year when an ankle injury proved she would never be able to cheer again.

            Despite their differing social circles and statuses, Abby would be lying if she said that she had never noticed how his brown eyes sparkled when he smiled or how he stood with his hands on his hips as he waited at the lockers for his friends. When he entered chemistry lab that day, she knew it was finally her chance to get to know him.

* * *

 

            Who knew that showing up late to chemistry lab would be the thing that would change his life. He was never late for anything, ever. But that day, the first day of his spring semester of junior year, had been nothing short of hectic. As he fought his way through the rushing crowds of high schoolers, amongst them being the Freshman who _still_ managed to get lost even though it was January, he’d came upon his best friend Theo who was getting pushed around by a jock on the football team. As Marcus intervened and talked the two guys down, he heard the tardy bell ring. He cursed under his breath as he rushed to class, giving Theo an apologetic wave as Theo and the jock were escorted to the dean’s office.

            When he’d entered that classroom on that January afternoon, he never would have expected for Abby Walters to smile and wave at _him_. He’d always been too shy to even speak to her besides that time Sophomore year when he bumped into her on his way to third period and he fumbled over his words as he finally mustered a pathetic “sorry” before rushing off to class.

            He always thought she was pretty, but he was far from the only one. Abigail Walters was the type of girl who was always surrounded by friends at the cafeteria as the boys on the football team strived to get her attention in the most ridiculous ways possible. She was beautiful, popular, and rich. Basically as unattainable to Marcus as a Hollywood actress. Or so he thought.

            As they pondered over test tubes and studied for quizzes that semester, he realized that despite her popularity, Abigail Walters was nothing like he’d thought she would be. She didn’t care how he dressed or that his mom worked two, sometimes three jobs just to help pay the mortgage for their tiny single-wide trailer. She couldn’t have cared less that his mom was the bartender who literally _threw_ the town doctor—who just so happened to be Abby’s belligerently drunk father—out of Ernie’s bar in 1991 after he’d had way too much to drink and started getting handsy with the waitresses. Abby actually told him in a laugh one day after class “He deserved it.”

            Abby was a vivacious young woman who lit up whatever room she ever entered. Her brisk, unbridled laugh never failed to draw a smile from his face even on his darkest days and when she smiled, there was a mischievous hint about it, as though she held information privy to no one else. Marcus couldn’t help but sneak quick glances of her sitting comfortably in her chair in class, her curled honey hair resting just below her shoulders, her dark coffee colored eyes staring at the chalkboard as she chewed on her eraser in thought. There were days when they would be jotting down notes in class, Abby would touch his arm to get his attention and the touch would linger the rest of the day.

* * *

 

            A month into the semester, Marcus had confided in her, albeit a little nervously, that science was never his strongest subject, and asked if she cared to tutor him after school. Despite what her snobby friends would say, she enjoyed spending time with him, whether it was studying for exams at the library or just chatting in between periods at their lockers. Following a few tutoring sessions, which were held at her parent’s estate on days that both doctors worked long hours, she had even began choosing to sit with him at lunch as opposed to Aurora, Callie, and Diana. Callie had been a bit more supportive of their friendship than Aurora and Diana, but it was obvious that she was hesitant. Despite him no longer being in his life, Marcus’ father had garnered a notorious reputation for being a no-good, violent alcoholic who could never hold down a job. It was a small southern town and gossip spread like wildfire whenever Vera Kane appeared at the grocery store with a new bruise. While Diana and Aurora could only ever focus on Marcus’ clothing and social status, Callie had told her that she feared he would turn out just like his father. Abby had thanked her for her concern but told her that Marcus was _not_ his father.

            Study sessions and tutoring sessions grew longer as the two began to grow closer. In between quizzing one another on the periodic table and chemical elements, the teens would share anecdotal stories about their vastly contrasting childhoods and social circles. No one had ever made her laugh and feel as special as he did. When he looked into her eyes, she felt as though she was the only one in the world. Regardless of anyone else’s opinions of him, Abby knew that she was quickly falling in love with Marcus Kane.


	3. Reunited And It Feels So... Good?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to May 2020, Abby and Marcus try their best to pick up where they left off- 25 years ago.

_May 2020_

            Sometimes he wondered what she felt when she thought of their time spent together all those years ago. Did she ever marvel at what they’d shared? Or did she ever even think of him at all? All those thoughts and more fluttered through his brain as he approached her. She stood smiling, catching up with old friends, laughing at some arbitrary joke cracked by Aurora. Their laughs faded away as they saw him and at the sound of him clearing his throat, Abby turned, her eyes growing wide at the sight of him.

            “Marcus. Hi. Uh… We’ll leave you two to it,” Callie said, grabbing Aurora by the arm, Diana following behind them.

            He cleared his throat once more, a nervous tick, and scratched at his neatly trimmed beard. “Hi Abby,” he said.

            “Hi Marcus,” was all she could say in a faint laugh as she pulled him to her. Her “hi” no longer sounded like it did when they were young, and for some reason, it made him feel a bit sad.

* * *

 

            They pulled away from their hug and Abby stood on trembling legs, facing the man who broke her heart 25 years ago. The intensity of his gaze hadn’t changed after all of those years and it was almost too much for her to bear.

            “Can I get you a drink?”

            “That would be nice.”

            She followed behind him as they made their way to a quiet table in the corner. She felt her shoulders relax as she slowed down, creating some distance between them. She hadn’t even noticed that she was tensing them.

            Marcus pulled out a chair for Abby and nodded politely towards it. She accepted and sat down, shooting him a friendly smile. “Always the gentleman. Thank you.”

            “It’s how my mama raised me,” he remarked, proudly. He exhaled, his intense gaze landing on her once more. “You look amazing.”

            Despite herself, she could feel her cheeks flush. “Thank you. As do you. You finally were able to grow facial hair!”

            It was his turn to blush now. She couldn’t help but smile to herself at how easy it was to make him blush, even after all this time.

“Ha. Yeah, most of it’s grey now. I was thinking about shaving it off. I grew it out kind of as a rebellious stage after I left the military.”

            “I think it looks great,” she said, followed by, “You were in the military?”

            “Army,” he confirmed. “I spent 20 years before being honorably discharged. I was a medic.”

            Abby smirked. “A medic? Looks like my tutoring in high school really paid off.”

            He smiled at her quip, but didn’t reply. It was a fun game she liked to play when they were together. She’d make a snarky comment and try to garner a reaction. On most days, he’d react just to entertain her. She wondered if he’d changed over the years, that he wasn’t as reactionary as he used to be. Or maybe that he’d rather keep the past in the past at the mention of their tutoring sessions.

            “Thank you for your service,” she said. Usually when someone told him that, it sounded like they were merely ordering a coffee, but when Abby thanked him, he could hear the sincerity in her voice.

            “Thank you,” he said simply, always unsure how to respond to the comments made about his service.

            “So, what are you doing these days?” 

            “I’m a paramedic.”

            “Wow, that’s wonderful!”

            “Thank you. What about you?”

            “I recently accepted a position as head of general surgery at the hospital.”

            “So you decided on the general surgery route, huh?”

            Abby sipped her drink and nodded. Her mind flashed back to the evenings she’d spent with Marcus on the beach that summer, her debating with him whether she should go for general surgery or cardio, despite her not even being out of high school yet.

            “Good for you, Abby.”

            “Thank you,” she smiled.

            The small talk was not in order to purposefully avoid the elephant in the room, but they continued to keep the distance from it alive until topics on the weather and old friends became mundane and she couldn’t take it anymore. Her smile faded as she began to toy with the straw in her drink, suddenly refusing to make eye contact. She swallowed hard. It was time to address the elephant.

            “I wrote you letters.”

            “I know. I got ‘em,” he said, his face unreadable. Dammit. She frowned. She wasn’t going to pry and it was obvious he wasn’t going to say more on the matter, at least not now.

            “You lost your accent,” Marcus said matter-of-factly, desperately changing the subject.

            “Yeah, mostly,” she replied, her short response willing the uncomfortable silence to return.

            He exhaled. “I heard rumors you were back in town but I couldn’t believe it. You always talked about how you wanted to get as far away from Oriental as possible.”

            Abby chuckled. “Not just Oriental, but all of North Carolina. My husband died a year ago. I have a daughter, Clarke, she’s 8. I decided to move back here so my mom can help me with her. We moved back about 4 months ago.”

            “I’m sorry to hear about your husband. And I was sorry to hear about your dad, too. It’s been… 11 years now, hasn’t it?”

            “11 this September, yes. And thank you.”

            “How’d your husband pass, if you don’t mind me asking. I’m assuming he was young.”

            “I don’t mind. Yes, he was young. Drunk driving killed him,” she said, taking another sip from her drink.

            “Wow, I’m sorry. People can be so irresponsible.”

            “ _He_ was the drunk driver.”

            “Oh.” He ran a hand over his beard as his mouth remained agape, his facial hair rasping against his calloused palm.

            “I loved him but Jake had his demons. We all do. Unfortunately for him, he paid the ultimate sacrifice for his demons.”

            “I’m really sorry, Abby. I shouldn’t have said what I said.”

            “No, it’s okay. You weren’t wrong.”

* * *

 

            He stared at the table, fidgeting with the drink napkin in his hands. “You loved him, but were you in love with him?”

            Abby glared at him and shook her head in disbelief. “Really Marcus,” she asked, her voice raising slightly. “You run _me_ away and then have the gall to ask me that?”

            Marcus kept his voice calm and low. He couldn’t help but notice that her southern accent came out ever so slightly when she was upset. “It’s a goddamn simple question, Abby. Were you in love with him?”

            Abby massaged her temples and let out a sigh of defeat as she pinched at the bridge of her nose, a habit she’d done frequently whenever she was in thought or under stress. “I came to terms years ago with the fact that I’ll never love someone like I loved you.”

            At that, his heart felt as if it was breaking in two.

            “Abby, I’m sorry.”

            Abby blinked away tears that were fighting to escape from her molasses brown eyes. She forced a smile as she met his sympathetic gaze.

            “I hear you went to Johns Hopkins,” he said, changing the subject once again. “I’m proud of you. You chased your dreams.”

            “Albeit begrudgingly, thanks to you and my parents.”

            Marcus frowned. “It’s what was best for you.”

            “Interesting how everyone else on this damn planet knows what’s best for me except _me_ ,” she shouted, the words dripping off of her tongue like venom.

            Marcus swallowed hard. He hadn’t meant it like that, she knew that. He knew who her anger was really directed to.

            “This is about your parents,” he said, knowingly.

            She let out a derisive scoff. “When is it not about them? They ruined me.”

            “Being the top of your class at Johns Hopkins University—yes I’d heard about that great accomplishment—and getting a position as head of general surgery doesn’t sound like a ruined life to me.”

            “How about raising an 8 year old daughter as a widow at 43?”

            He had no response. Her life now was, in the end, a result from her own choices in life, but had her parents not had such a different dream for her than her own, he’d have never ended it, she’d have never left Oriental without him, and she’d had never given Jake the time of day. She would have still been with Marcus, who was here, who was alive.

            She sighed an exhausted sigh. “Marcus, it’s been 25 years. Let’s enjoy this evening, alright?”

            “Sounds good to me,” he smiled.

            “I was shocked to see you here. Parties were never your thing in high school.”

            “They still ain’t,” he admitted, tugging at his collar.

            Abby laughed her same free-spirited laugh that she had in high school. “Do you remember how miserable you were at prom? _Both_ times?”

            “Yeah, that’s about how I felt tonight until you showed up.”

            She cracked a smile. “Theo wasn’t good company?”

            “He’s alright,” he joked. 

            “You could have said no when I asked you to go to prom with me junior year, you know.”

            “Yeah,” he said, rubbing his neck. “Yeah, I could have. But I felt sorry for you. You were such a loser, I knew that I was your only hope at having a date to that stupid dance,” he jested. Abby guffawed and slapped his shoulder, her touch lingering even as their laughs faded away. He took notice at the touch and his eyes moved from her eyes to her hand resting on his toned bicep. He was thankful that he’d been working out more recently.

            Abby pulled away as his eyes landed on her hand and cleared her throat. “I felt so special that I was going with an older boy.”

            Marcus made a face. “We were in the same grade.”

            “Yeah, but you were a year older than mostly everyone else in the grade! Two years older than me.”

            “Only because I failed Kindergarten,” he said following a scoff.

            “That’s right! Who fails Kindergarten,” Abby said in a laugh.

            “Lots of people do,” Marcus replied, his arms crossed in feigned offence. “Meanwhile I was going with a girl who skipped 5th grade and went straight to middle school. You never stopped amazing me since then.”

 


	4. Boys II Men and Other Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prom, 1994.

_May 1994_

            Marcus Kane leaned against the locker beside Abby’s as she gathered her books for their last class of the day. In between studying for chemistry lab, late night tutoring sessions on weekends, and doing projects in class, the two had developed a close bond and had become inseparable. Abby’s friends complained at first, saying they missed their friend, but eventually gave up and at the very least pretended that they were happy for her. Meanwhile Marcus’ friends would cheer him on whenever they walked by the two standing together, much to the chagrin of Marcus who was one to keep quiet and modest. Once Abby closed her locker, she stood in silence.

            “Hey, we gotta get going to 7th period. What’s wrong?”

            Abby bit her lip in contemplation, her eyes shifting between Marcus and the lockers. “I was wondering…”

            Marcus arched an eyebrow. “Yes?”

            “Would you go to prom with me? As my date?”

            Marcus couldn’t speak. Surely she hadn’t just asked him to be her date to prom.

            “I’m sorry if I’ve gotten the wrong vibe,” she continued, nervously. Abby was always extremely bubbly and confident, he hadn’t ever seen that side of her before.

            He smile reassuringly. “Abby, no. I… I really like you. I’d love to go to prom with you.”

            Abby beamed. “Really?”

            “Of course.”

            At that, she stood on her tip-toes and pulled him into a tight hug, kissing his cheek, his face quickly flushing a hot pink. That kiss lingered on his cheek for the rest of the day.

* * *

 

_1 week later_

            “He’s here,” her mother called from downstairs, sounding less than enthused about Abby’s date to prom. Abby had never mentioned that she was going to prom with Marcus Kane until the day of, purposefully to avoid any conflict in the days leading up to the event. Abby’s father was nowhere in sight. She thought he’d surely want to see his little girl dressed up for her first prom, but an old family feud was apparently more important to him. Abby felt as if her heart was breaking in two. “It’s just a phase,” she’d overheard her mother telling her father earlier that day after Abby broke the news to the both of them.

            To her surprise, her mother stood at the stairs smiling, Nikon camera in hand. Her smile was cold compared to other mothers, but it was a smile, nonetheless. “You look beautiful. My little girl, all grown up.”

            Abby posed at the bottom of the staircase for a few individual photos to appease her mother before greeting Marcus with a hug at the front doorway. He looked extremely handsome in his suit, his hair combed back. He’d been working odd jobs all week trying to make enough money for a suit to rent, refusing any financial help from Abby. His hard work certainly paid off, as Abby couldn’t keep her eyes off of him.

            Marcus tried his best to make a good impression with her mother, but it seemed that she just couldn’t be pleased. He could have found a cure for cancer but they would still hate him solely because he was a Kane, and that infuriated Abby.

            Wanting desperately to finally escape from her mother’s presence, she had her mother take a few photos of herself and Marcus together before he escorted her to his navy blue 1987 Chevy Silverado, whisking her away to the school gymnasium.

* * *

 

            Marcus stood nervously by the punch bowl, fidgeting with the cup in his hand as he watched Abby dance and smile with her friends, laughing her iconic, chaotic laugh as she gripped her sides. Marcus rarely listened to music outside the genres of country, rock, or grunge, but he’d recognized some artists playing based on what Abby had played for him on her Walkman and what he had heard occasionally over the radio. Salt-N-Pepa, Mariah Carey, and Whitney Houston were some familiar artists that blasted through the speakers as Marcus and Theo chatted about their classes and various life happenings.

            “I can’t believe you’re going out with Abby Walters,” Theo said, shaking his head. “You, of all people!”

            “Gee, thanks, Theo,” Marcus deadpanned as he rubbed the back of his neck. “But yeah, I can’t believe it either.”

            As if on cue, Abby appeared and took Marcus by the hand. “Come on, let’s dance!”

            Marcus wanted to say no, so very badly, but looking into Abby’s dark brown eyes and the excitement that glistened from them, the only thing he could say was “Okay.”

            She pulled him onto the dance floor just as the song changed and the lights dimmed. “I’ll Make Love To You” by Boys II Men began playing and Marcus began to turn several shades of red. He held his hands at her love handles and kept a respectable distance between the two (room for the Holy Ghost, as his grandma would say), not wanting to overstep any boundaries. They’d gotten close over the months, and yes she asked him to be her date to prom, but he wasn’t expecting anything more from her than simply that: a date, a companion. But a minute into the song, Abby began to inch closer, closing in the respectable gap between the two, saying goodbye to the Holy Ghost and whoever else could have been resting in the gap. Marcus could feel the heat rise from his chest and to his face as they danced, her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her breasts pushing into his torso. He bent down to rest his head on her shoulder as they swayed, feeling her hot breath on his neck, running a hand through her silky smooth honey colored hair. As the song drew near a close, Abby grabbed his face with both hands. _Is she about to—_

His thoughts were interrupted by her plump cherry red lips meeting his. She really _did_ do that, and he couldn’t believe it. All that he knew was that he never wanted to stop.


	5. Memories, They're Something Else

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 2020, Marcus and Abby dance. Marcus reveals a 25-year old secret. Marcus finds his courage.

_May 2020_

            Once the DJ had finally arrived at the country club banquet hall, he set up quickly and began playing the playlist that was requested by the organizers of the reunion: Callie Cartwig, David Miller, and Hannah Green. The playlist was nothing but popular songs from the early 90s, their high school days.

            Abby and Marcus sat mutely in their quiet, corner spot as they watched the others. Middle-aged couples dancing to Barry White and Hootie and the Blowfish, middle-aged singles taking advantage of the open bar, middle-aged parents exchanging parenting tips and discussing which “mom groups” on Facebook they belong to all the while getting into heated discussions about breast feeding and vaccinations.

            Marcus shook his head, taking it all in. So many people had changed since high school. Paxton and Charmaine were about to be parents, something he never would have imagined in his wildest dreams. Two of his best friends who he used to go out riding dirt bikes on back country roads and shooting cans and bottles with their .22 rifles were bringing a child into this world.

            They would be great parents, he knew that. The army changed them all and made them grow up quicker than most. At age 18 and 19, mere children, they should have been sitting in the dugout waiting to bat, but at the sound of shouting that their sergeant was shot and was about to bleed out, the pair jumped to their feet in a scrambled effort to save the dying man, trudging through the desert sand as they dragged the sergeant to a safe location, Marcus making a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding.

            Marcus batted his eyes and took a deep breath, removing himself from the trance, trying to push away the memories of war. He eyed the couple. Part of him believed that he might even be jealous of their life, starting a family. He still held onto a sliver of hope of one day being a father.

            His eyes scanned the room and landed on Abby’s group of old friends. Some things change, some stay the same. Callie and Aurora changed. They were no longer the stuck up snobs they once were when they were young. He wished he could say the same for Diana. Callie and Aurora spoke to him whenever they saw one another in passing, which was quite often in this town. He wouldn’t go as far to call them friends, but they were close acquaintances, at least.

            Callie ended up working in the billings department at the hospital while Aurora was a stay-at-home mom to her two kids, Bellamy and Octavia, her husband working as a diesel mechanic. Meanwhile, Diana was a criminal defense attorney and married the chief of surgery at the hospital, who was at least 20 years her senior.

            The moment that “I’ll Make Love To You” came on, Marcus removed himself from his daze of people-watching. Abby’s eyes lit up and she smiled. “Our song,” was all she had to say.

            Marcus pushed the chair away as he stood, offering out his hand. Accepting, she stood without hesitation as he led her to the dance floor.

            They swayed to the music as they held one another close, memories from that prom night flooding Marcus’ mind. His heart raced as he held her against him, his face nestled in the crevice of her neck. She smelled of fresh-picked flowers and cashmere. He gently trailed a long finger down her arm, feeling the goosebumps form as he continued down until he reached her hand, taking it in his own. He twirled her around as they both grinned, his taut muscles trying to fight their way out of his shirt sleeves. He’d bulked up recently, he probably should have went up a shirt size.

            Moving from her neck, he trailed his lips up to her ear and whispered, “I have a confession to make.”

            She pulled back to meet his gaze, donning a look of pure curiosity. “What’s that?”

            “Science was my best subject in school. I didn’t actually need tutoring.”

            As the realization set in, Abby’s face fell before her mouth quickly turned up into a smile, breezy, unbridled laugh escaping.

            “Marcus Kane,” she began, wiping a tear of laughter from her eye, “I cannot believe you. You mean our relationship started out on a lie?”

            Marcus smiled and shielded his face, shrugging.

            Abby shook her head. “Come here,” she said, and pulled him to her.

            They found their places from before, dancing as close to one another as they could. Abby slowly ran her delicate fingers through his hair, her fingers occasionally brushing the back of his neck, sending shivers down his spine and heat to his groin. He still felt like a teenage boy around her, getting turned on by the smallest things she did to him. He planted a soft, longing kiss on her cheek. He took her face in his strong, weathered hands and slowly brought his forehead to rest against hers. They met one another’s gaze and held it for what felt like ages, his breath hitching in his throat when she placed a hand on his chest and slowly moved it down his torso. He gulped. He couldn’t take it anymore. Lifting her chin up, for the first time in 25 years, Marcus Kane’s lips met Abigail Walter’s. The kiss was soft, hesitant at first, but after over two decades of separation, it soon turned heated and more passionate. His tongue parting her lips and maneuvering in a way that made her let out a small gasp. Reluctantly, the two finally had to break apart for air. To his surprise, Abby was laughing.

            “Looks like someone finally found their courage after all these years,” she said, somewhat out of breath. “I usually had to make all the moves when we were in school!”

            “It’s about time, huh,” he joked back, before pulling her into another kiss.


	6. Drunk On You (High On Summertime)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the summer of 1994, the new lovers Marcus and Abby spend their days together growing closer than ever.

_Summer 1994_

            On the last day of school, Marcus garnered up enough courage to ask Abby out for an ice cream to the local creamery. Despite her showing interest in him by asking him out and kissing him at prom, he still couldn’t help but be nervous. He held his breath as he waited on her response, which wasn’t long before she enthusiastically answered “Yes, of course!”

            She loved ice cream, he learned, especially the chocolate custard ice cream served at the creamery, resting atop a fresh, still-warm waffle cone. She devoured the ice cream outside the creamery as he took his time on his banana split, focused more on watching her than eating his own frozen treat. He smiled as the ice cream dripped down the cone then down her arm, the summer’s heat quickly turning it from solid to liquid. He grabbed some napkins from the dispenser on the picnic table, catching the sticky liquid, wiping off her arm and then her face which was chocolate-stained like a 3 year old who had just eaten a chocolate bar. He wiped her mouth slowly, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. She covered her face with one hand as she let out a small laugh.

            “Thanks,” she said.

* * *

 

            They spent nearly the entire summer together whenever Marcus wasn’t working at the local auto parts store. They’d spend hours at the beach, taking long drives in his truck, her hand on his knee as she watched his tanned, taut arms change the gears in his square bodied diesel Chevy truck that he had spent years with his grandpa fixing up before he died several summers back. There were just a couple of letters missing from the Chevrolet, to which Marcus apologized to Abby for the first time she’d ever ridden in his truck. She didn’t seem to mind that his truck was a hand-me-down fixer-upper.

            One hot July day, they decided to take a trip to the beach. Abby had lied to her parents and told them that she was going to Callie’s, and Callie had reluctantly agreed to cover for her. Marcus hugged his mother goodbye, Abby following suit. The cicadas screeched beneath the blazing sun as they loaded up the Chevy truck with an ice-filled cooler, blankets, chairs, and towels. Marcus even decided to bring some fishing gear. Being that close to the water, he’d always wanted to be prepared.

            On their way, Abby had driven them in his truck. He’d been teaching her since school let out how to drive a standard, and she caught on rather quickly. It was then when he first really became acquainted with her fiery side. They’d have moments of heated anger when she became frustrated at his vague instructions which quickly turned into moments of laughter at the whole situation. No matter how their arguments started, they always ended just as quickly and suddenly as they began.

            They laid on the beach, fingers intertwined as they shared their hopes and dreams for the future. She wanted to go to Johns Hopkins, she told him. It was her dream to go to school there and to one day become a doctor. He had worries about her being so far away, knowing he would never be able to move to Baltimore, at least not anytime soon. But as a teenager, next spring felt like a lifetime away, and he pushed the worries far back, enjoying his time with her.

            They began chatting about their favorite bands and sharing their love of poetry. Marcus was always teased about his love of poetry, something he tried to keep secret but would sometimes be caught with a book of Yeats in his hands while eating lunch in the cafeteria. He’d been a music lover all of his life, playing drums, guitar, and piano. Poetry simply reminded him of music, he enjoyed reading something with a rhythm. He and Abby quoted their favorite poems as they laid by the shore, poets ranging from Wordsworth to Poe, as the ocean’s tides in the distance sang bass and the seagulls sang soprano.

            With her long, tanned fingers interlaced with his, her head resting on his chest while his free hand absentmindedly toyed with her salty, wind-blown locks, Abby recited a memorized portion of her favorite William Wordsworth poem.

_“It is a beauteous evening, calm and free,_

_The holy time is quiet as a Nun_

_Breathless with adoration; the broad sun_

_Is sinking down in its tranquility.”_

* * *

 

            Leaving the beach a few hours before dusk, they decided to drop by one of Marcus’ favorite fishing holes. A brackish estuary a couple miles from the beach. It was out of the way on their way home, but neither really cared. The last place Abby wanted to be was home. The past few months, her true home had become wherever Marcus was. _He_ was her home and her safe space.

            They unloaded their supplies and rested atop of a blanket on the bank, fishing poles in hand as the bobbers bounced with the waves in the water. As the evening sun fell, it was just them, the brackish water, and the fallen, waterlogged cypress tree. They didn’t catch a fish, but neither really seemed to care. As the sun sank below the horizon and the full moon began to rise and shine through the palmettos, they decided to pack up their belongings and head back home. As Marcus gathered the blanket and fishing tackle and loaded it back into the bed of his truck, Abby watched him intently. The way he moved, so sure and easy, calmed her in a way that she couldn’t explain if she tried.

* * *

 

            The end of summer was quickly approaching and Abby’s parents began to discuss the future. No matter how hard she tried to dodge the topic, he would always come up. They’d say how he was good-for-nothing and that he “ain’t got a pot to piss in,” and that was no life they wanted their daughter to live. In a huff of frustration, Abby crumpled her napkin and threw it onto the dining room table, marching up the stairs to her bedroom, slamming the white wooden door behind her, making sure to lock it before burying her face into her pillow.

            It was somewhere around 10 when her mom knocked on her door and said “goodnight.” And it was somewhere around midnight when she silently climbed out of her bedroom window, onto the terrace of the house, then finally onto the grassy ground, making a bee-line for her Ford Mustang convertible.

            It’s possible that her parents heard her escape, it’s possible they heard her car start up and drive off, but if they did, they never spoke about it. She didn’t care. All she cared about was Marcus and she needed to see him.

            When she finally arrived at his place, she noticed his mother’s car was gone, but his truck was there. She knocked on the tattered screen door to the trailer and soon Marcus answered, standing at the door, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, wearing a white t-shirt and plaid boxer shorts. His hair was a dark, tousled mess.

            “Abby,” he said in shock. Abby merely cried and fell into his arms.

            They made love for the first time that night. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as Abby feared it would, but it wasn’t comfortable either. Nevertheless, Marcus was constantly making sure she was okay, easing himself inside her, a little at a time, nipping at her neck as his hot breath warmed her to her core. It was the first time for them both and after, as he held her close, she cried. He took her in his arms and whispered “I love you.”

            “I love you, too,” she croaked, pulling him in for a kiss.

            They laid in silence for a long time after, nothing but the sound of their breaths and skin rubbing against skin as his strong hands ran up and down her back. Breaking the silence, Marcus spoke.

            “Are you happy?”

            Abby furrowed her brow. Thinking for a moment, then she replied. “I’m only happy when I’m with you.”


	7. Rediscovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 2020. The night draws near and Marcus and Abby rediscover one another after 25 years of separation.

_May 2020_

            Taking a break from dancing, Abby and Marcus mingled with old friends. A former classmate and quarterback of the football team, now a pastor in the town across from Oriental, Tim Addams, approached them and greeted them each with a handshake and a big smile. Abby never liked him. He was a big bully in school and always thought he was hot stuff.

            “How’s your mama an’ ‘em,” he asked Abby in a thick southern drawl. She couldn’t stop herself from staring at his toupee. Between that, his mustard colored suit, and the distracting shrimp cocktail sauce stain on his “Philippians 4:13” tie resting atop a bulging belly (beer drinker?), Abby struggled to manage proper eye contact. How some people had changed since high school.

            “Dad died 11 years ago so it’s just my mom living alone now. She has trouble with her arthritis but she refuses help.”

            “Bless her heart. Tell her us at the Kershaw First Baptist Church will be prayin’ for her.”

            “Will do, Tim, thank you,” Abby said in a tight smile. It was hard for her to imagine he was anything different from the bully in high school. He’d definitely lost his good looks, maybe he lost the attitude, too. Either way, Abby wasn’t interested in being friendly.

            “And how’s Vera,” Tim asked, turning to Marcus.

            “She’s good,” Marcus replied, hands in pockets. By the look on his face, he wasn’t interested in the small-talk, either.

            “Good,” Tim nodded. “Well, we’re fixin’ to leave, I just thought I’d stop and say hey. Marcus, can I drop by sometime next week with my Buick and see if you could take a look at it? I think it’s the alternator but I can’t be too sure.” When Tim Addams said “can’t” it rhymed with “ain’t,” and Abby struggled to hold back a smile at how much she actually missed it here. Sure, she had still pined for the crab cakes in Baltimore, but the Balmer accent was nowhere as hilarious as _this_ , and she had surprised herself at how much she’d missed home. Abby was too busy smiling to herself to notice Marcus’ reply to Tim’s question.

            As they turned on their heels to leave, Tim’s wife, Tracy, class of 1996, finally spoke. “Y’all are still the cutest couple.” _Couple_. Still soft-spoken as always, she could barely hear Tracy. _Couple_. The word kept replaying in Abby’s mind, her heart breaking just a little, while keeping a sliver of hope that they could still be that again someday. The two smiled and offered the Addamses a parting wave in unison.

            “You didn’t correct her,” Marcus whispered, his “goodbye” hand still midair.

            “Neither did you,” Abby said wearing a big, fake smile directed towards Tim and Tracy. She nudged Marcus in the ribs with her elbow once the couple were out of sight.

            Retreating back to their corner, hand in hand, Marcus and Abby people-watched as they took advantage of the open bar. Abby’s eyes landed across the room on a former classmate. She scowled. “That dress is uglier than homemade sin.”

            Marcus smiled.

            “What?”

            “I heard your accent come out a little bit. Heard it earlier when you were mad at me, too.”

            Abby made a noise somewhere between a chuckle and a scoff. “Yeah, well, it slips out when I drink and when I’m angry.”

            Marcus grinned behind his Jack and Coke. “Well, don’t be surprised if I pick fights just to hear it.” Abby pointedly ignored his comment but her façade soon faltered as the corners of her mouth turned up into a coy smile.

            “Fine,” she said with an air of resignation, a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. _He’s certainly gotten braver with age_ , Abby thought.

            As the night finally drew to an end, Marcus escorted Abby out of the country club. Falling into step beside each other, his hand found hers, his mere touch warming her to her core. Filling in the distance between them then, the alcohol pulsing through her bloodstream, making her more bold than usual, she placed a hand on his chest, his shirt now unbuttoned about three buttons more than the start of the evening. “My daughter is spending the night at my mom’s,” she whispered. He breathed, his breath hot on her neck, before gulping down any words he was about to mumble out. “Come home with me, Marcus,” and then even quieter, “I want you.” She toyed with the buttons on his shirt as she playfully bit his neck.

            Needing no more convincing, Marcus agreed to her pleas silently by kissing her tenderly at first, then with more passion. 25 years’ worth of lust which would only be broken free to finally call for an Uber to pick them both up.

* * *

 

            “Are you sure ‘bout this, Abby?” Marcus stood out of breath in his boxer briefs, Abby perched on the kitchen counter in front of him wearing just her bra and panties, her hair a tousled mess.

            “Marcus, I’ve wanted this for _25 years_. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

            With that, Marcus lifted her from the kitchen counter as she directed him to her bedroom. As he carried her to her room, he planted delicate kisses on the small of her neck and nipped at her earlobe.

            Their love making was unlike any other, and it’d always been that way. Ever since she had known Marcus, he’d always been more concerned about everyone else’s needs, even in the bedroom. _Especially_ in the bedroom. For years Abby had told herself that their time together stood out to her because it was her first love. Now, after all of these years, as she laid in her bed, him on top of her with half-lidded eyes, slowly and tenderly easing himself deeper and deeper inside of her as she adjusted to his size, she realized that it wasn’t special because it was her first love, it was special because it was with _him_. No matter when they would have met or where life would have taken him, there would never be another Marcus Kane and there would never be another man that could ever be as good and true to her as him.

            Soft moans and declarations escaped the couples lips as they took their time relearning one another’s bodies. As he thrust into her, now having picked up pace, Abby’s one hand rested in his dark, wavy hair, while the other firmly gripped his ass. It was always her unspoken, perhaps even subconscious way of saying “he’s mine,” as they’d made love. On the rare chance Abby would move her hands, Marcus’s hands found them and stretched her arms over her head, his fingers intertwined with hers. His forehead rested on the pillow as he pushed inside of her then out again. His prickly beard tickled her cheek but she was too busy feeling other things to care. He’d slow down to a light rhythm and push deeply into her before pulling completely out again. It was more than enough to drive her to the edge, her orgasm and shouting of his name being enough to bring him with her.

            When they were finished, Abby laid half on top of Marcus, half beside of him, his head resting on his chest, both of them panting as they came off of their euphoric high. Their bodies a mess, smelling of sweat and sex. Abby’s heart swelled. How she had dreamt of this moment for years, albeit guiltily, but finally, Marcus Kane was in her bed. She’d just made love to the love of her life and it felt as if no time at all had passed. She felt a tear escape her eyes and before she could catch it, it fell, landing on his chest. He must have took notice as he began to rub her back. “Hey,” he said in a concerned voice.

            Embarrassed, Abby quickly wiped her eyes before meeting his gaze. His dark, wet eyes glistened from the moonlight that crept in through the double hung window. He had been crying, too. Saying nothing more, she allowed her emotions to escape, her trickle of tears soon becoming silent waterworks as he pulled her into him, his soft sobs evident by the rise and fall of his taut shoulders.

            They fell asleep in each other’s arms, uttering not another word. It was the best sleep Abby ever had.

 


	8. She Does, So I Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fall 1994. A new semester and new adventures.

_Fall 1994_

            Months passed and summer gently eased itself away just as southern summers do. That fall semester, Abby and Marcus arranged their schedules where they had every class together except for one. They spent most evenings at her place while her parents were at work, studying and kissing, learning more and more about literature and government and one another’s bodies. Marcus often joked that anatomy was his favorite class.

            One Saturday in late September, they had planned a picnic. Abby mentioned that she needed to pick up some items from the store in order to prepare lunch. Hand in hand, they walked into the Piggly Wiggly on Main, browsing the grocery store for the few items. The scruffy middle aged cashier named Walter scanned the items. White bread, pimento cheese spread, and a bag of Lays potato chips. Abby already had the plasticware and napkins in the picnic basket.

            On their way out of the store, they bumped into Abby’s granddaddy, the town’s Methodist preacher, who was always dressed in his Sunday best, every day of the week, and always smelled of Old Spice. He greeted her warmly with a smile and a hug, and much to Marcus’ surprise, greeted him the same. Her granddaddy was the only person in her family to ever treat Marcus like he was a human, not merely a white trash Kane.

            Before saying goodbye, he offered them both a peppermint which he often kept handy in his pockets, and invited Marcus to church that following day. Marcus, too shocked to speak, stood wide eyed as Abby took him by the arm and told her granddaddy that he’d be there.

* * *

 

            During their picnic under a looming live oak tree, they sipped on a mason jar of homemade apple pie moonshine Marcus had swiped from his mom’s collection and carved their initials inside of a large heart into the trunk with Marcus’ pocketknife his grandpa had given him when he turned 12. After, they sat back and admired their handiwork, smiling.

            “You should’ve let me do it, it would have been less sloppy,” Abby quipped.

            Marcus sneered at her before jumping to his feet, ready to return some payback by holding down and tickling her. Abby screamed and slipped from his grip, running around the large oak tree, dodging his every move. He’d caught up to her, finally, from behind and picked her up off of the ground, spinning her until they both fell softly back onto the picnic blanket. He laid on top of her then and lifted her chin, gazing into the stars in her eyes as she wore her usual, knowing grin. He paused for a moment to take her in before kissing her, tasting the warm hint of cinnamon on her lips from the moonshine.

            After they devoured their lunch, Marcus started his truck, pushing a Bruce Springsteen cassette tape into the tape deck. Turning the music up as loud as they wanted, not a soul around for miles to complain of the noise. They danced closely to the music, her hands resting in the back pockets of his worn out jeans as his rested on her love handles, her tank top riding up ever so slightly, revealing her leftover tan from the countless hours spent on the beach over the summer. Her Daisy Duke shorts, which left little to the imagination, did wonders in accentuating her smooth, bronzed legs, an image Marcus often had trouble removing from his mind even hours after seeing her.

* * *

 

            The following morning, Abby’s parents were still sulking at the fact that Pastor Walters had invited Marcus Kane to accompany their daughter to Sunday service. They protested at first but in the end, Granddaddy was the pastor and he invited Marcus, so his request trumped their complaints.

            After her parents gave in later that evening, Abby overheard the hushed whispers between them. “It’s probably just a phase,” her mother said to her father who was half-paying attention as he read the newspaper, the evening news playing on the television in the background.

            “It’s _not_ a phase,” Abby said to herself as she silently stormed back off to her room.

            At 9 am, everybody gathered in the tiny white country chapel. Abby sat hand in hand with Marcus on the hard, wooden pew, singing along to one of her favorite hymns. Her free hand waved a church fan to cool herself.

_And He walks with me,_

_and he talks with me,_

_and he tells me I am his own._

            Meanwhile, Marcus Kane’s backside ached in the pews, his palms clammy. He was feeling every bit of his side of the tracks as he endured the sidelong glances from her parents who were dressed far better than he was. The church scene was certainly not his thing, but he was willing to do anything for Abigail Griffin.

            “ _Church_ ,” his friend Theo had asked him. “You don’t go to church.”

            “She does,” Marcus said. “So I do.”

* * *

 

            As summer turned to fall, Abby’s parents stopped kicking her out of the house and gave up fighting with her over her relationship with Marcus. By winter, her father had stopped speaking to her completely, remaining a mere aloof body living inside her house, no longer a father. It killed Marcus how he was the cause of her strained relationship with her parents, but she constantly assured him that it was fine, and they would warm to him eventually.

            “They’ll grow to love you because I love you,” she told him one night after making love.

            On nights like those, the young couple spent their time speaking more of the future as their senior year’s fall semester came to a close. Abby’s plans to go to Johns Hopkins didn’t deter them from having a relationship. They could visit, call, and write letters. There was no need to worry, she’d told him.


	9. Yes He Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 2020. The morning after. Marcus makes Abby breakfast. Abby receives some unexpected visitors.

_May 2020_

            Abby woke to the smell of home-cooked breakfast. She wrapped her white fuzzy robe around herself and padded downstairs to find Marcus cooking breakfast in his white undershirt and dark jeans.

            “Good morning.” He was whisking a bowl of eggs. Bending down, he captured Abby’s lips with his own. “Hope ya still like grits.” He nodded towards the grits on the stove.

            “I do.”

            “With cheese?”

            “You remember,” Abby beamed.

            Marcus served her a large breakfast of biscuits (from a can—her favorite), gravy (white sawmill gravy with chunks of sausage), fried bacon, cheese grits, homestyle potatoes, and scrambled eggs. He’d sneaked out and went to the grocery store to buy what she didn’t have in the kitchen.

            “You’re still such a heavy sleeper,” he remarked as he smeared apple butter on the inside of a biscuit.

            “One of my many talents,” Abby shrugged.

            “Mm. I got to see some of those talents into play last night.”

            “Oh, stop.” She rolled her eyes and kicked him in the shin.

            “Ow!”

            “That’s what you deserve.”

            “Do it again.”

            Abby shook her head, a smile playing on her lips. “You’re disgusting.”

            Marcus wiped his beard, his plate now cleared, and offered Abby seconds. “We have way too much food left over. Eat some more.”

            “No, I’m stuffed,” she said, resting her hand on her stomach. “I have a food baby now.”

            Marcus’ eyes lingered on her stomach, smiling warmly, before the sound of the front door opening interrupted them.

            “Mommy!” Eight year old Clarke stormed through the front door and ran into her mother’s arms.

            “She wanted to see her mommy,” Patricia Walters said smiling, Clarke’s My Little Pony backpack slung over one shoulder. Her smile fell at the sight of him.

            “Who’s _he_ ,” Clarke asked, her nose scrunched.

            Abby cleared her throat, blanching. “This… This is Marcus. My… friend. Marcus, this is Clarke, my daughter.”

            “Hi Marcus,” Clarke said shyly, half-hidden behind her mother’s leg.

            Marcus lowered himself to Clarke’s level and reached out his hand. “Hi Clarke.” Clarke hesitantly offered her hand, gripping his hand in a loose handshake.

            Raising himself back up, he faced the woman who he’d spent years resenting. “Mrs. Walters,” he nodded. He wasn’t in the mood to even pretend to be pleasantly surprised to see her, evident by his tone.

            Abby’s mother donned a tight lip smile as her eyes shifted back and forth between her daughter and the man in her daughter’s kitchen. Abby was sure her mother was clutching at her metaphorical pearls as they spoke. “Call me Pat. You know, I see you around sometimes at Walmart but you pretend not to notice me.”

            Abby whispered to Clarke to go play and she’d fix her a plate of breakfast that Marcus had cooked. Clarke didn’t argue and rushed to her room to play with her dolls.

            Marcus’ gaze was downcast, his hands rested on his hips. Probably wishing he could have went and played dolls with Clarke but instead he was stuck having this dreadful conversation with Patricia Walters.

            “I’m sorry, Mrs.-I mean, Pat.” He stopped, searching for the right words. “Truth be told, I never got over Abby, so keeping my distance from everything that reminded me of her was the easiest thing for me. That included keeping my distance from you.” He was oversharing, but he didn't care. He wanted to do it right this time. Lay all of his cards out on the table for everyone to see.

            Pat nodded and eyed him up and down several times with pursed pink lips. “Very well. I understand. You two were inseparable when you were young. She might not want me saying this, but I don’t think Abby ever really got over you, either. I thought it was just a fling—teenage infatuation. But as years went on, I never saw the sparkle in her eye with Jake, Clarke’s father, that I saw when she was with you. I realized I’d made a mistake. I shouldn’t have pushed her away for loving you.”

            Marcus' face was pale. Meanwhile, Abby cleared her throat, growing more uncomfortable by the second. She toyed with a dish towel still in her clammy hands. “I thought you’d call, Mom.”

            “Well, Clarke was wanting her mommy, and you never made it clear that it was… _that_ kind of reunion.” Her eyes stayed on Marcus for a bit too long. Abby was sure a smile was beginning to play on her mother’s lips.

            “Yes, well, some things just… happen,” Abby laughed nervously.

            “Well how are you going to explain this little _reunion_ to Clarke,” Pat asked. Despite her patronizing words, her tone remained neutral. She had softened a bit in her old age. No longer quite the helicopter parent she once was, although it took Abby constantly reminding her mother she was a grown woman and could, and _would_ , make her own decisions, for her mother to shut up.

            “Mom, d’you want breakfast,” Abby asked, quickly changing the subject as she turned to grab a plate from the cabinet. “Marcus fixed it while I was asleep.”

            “He can cook? Impressive.” Even when Patricia Walters was impressed, she still looked generally annoyed. _Like a bulldog baptized in lemon_ _juice_ as Vera would say.

            Pat hung Clarke’s backpack on the coat rack beside the door and took a seat at the mahogany dining room table, answering Abby’s question.

            “Marcus, come sit,” Pat requested.

            Marcus took a seat beside Pat while Abby made her mom a plate.

            “So I hear you’re a paramedic now.”

            “Yes ma’am.”

            “And you served our country.”

            “Yes.”

            Pat smiled. “Thank you for your service.”

            “Thank you, Mrs. Walters.”

            “Call me Pat,” she firmly reminded him. “So what are you doing having a sleep over at my daughter’s house? You know her husband just died a year ago.”

            “Don’t answer that,” Abby called from the kitchen, quickly making her way from the kitchen to the dining room with Pat’s plate of breakfast in one hand, a cup of piping hot black coffee in the other. _She likes her coffee black, like her soul_ , Abby thought, only half-joking. Setting the plate of food in front of her mother, Abby took a seat beside Marcus, wrapping her arm around his shoulders as her free hand rested on his thigh, dangerously close to his groin. “I’m a grown woman, mother. I’ll have as many,” Abby looked at Marcus, the familiar twinkle in her eye, “sleepovers as I’d like with Marcus.” She arched her eyebrow in triumph, waiting for a reply, knowing her mother couldn’t argue against that.

            Her mother merely sighed in defeat. “So, Marcus. You never married. At least I never heard of a marriage or read it in the papers. Why is that?”

            “Don’t answer that either,” Abby said, patting him on the back. “Mom, please stop prying.”

            “I’m just a concerned parent!”

            “And I’m 42 years old.”

            Marcus spoke up. “It’s okay, Abby.”

            “No, Marcus, it’s not,” Abby crossed her arms, glaring at her mother who continued to eat her breakfast nonchalantly.

            “Fine,” Pat said. “Answer me this one question, both of you. Are you happy?”

            Abby looked at Marcus. Her smile was pained but sincere. “Very.”

            Pat’s gaze fell on Marcus. “I’m happier than ever, Pat,” he assured her.

            “And you’ll treat her right?”

            “Of course I will.”

            “Then, you’re both adults. I’ll meddle no more.” Pat sipped her coffee, pushed a piece of stray egg around on her plate. “Marcus, I am really sorry about how I treated you all those years ago. I’ve spent many nights lying awake regretting my choices. It’s too bad I didn’t realize how in the wrong I was until it was too late.”

            “Thank you, Pat.”

            “Well, don’t let me take up any more time of your day.” Pat pushed herself up from her seat. “Clarke, come give your Nana a bye bye kiss,” she called. Clarke’s bare feet slapped the hardwood floors as she ran to hug and kiss her Nana Pat goodbye.

            “Breakfast was delicious Marcus,” Pat smiled. “Take care of Abby. If she’s happy, I’m happy. Just remember, she comes as a package deal now,” her mother said, rubbing one arthritic hand over Clarke’s blonde curls. “Bye now.”

            As the door closed behind Pat, a sigh of relief escaped both Abby and Marcus.

            “She barely ate anything,” Marcus remarked, picking up her plate and emptying the scraps into the trash can in the kitchen.

            “That’s my mother for you. She finds it rude to ever refuse. She most likely already ate this morning.”

            “Yep,” little Clarke piped up. “She took me to McDonald’s this morning.”

            Marcus raised his eyebrows and lowered himself to her level, feigning intrigue. “Oh. What did you order?”

            “Pancakes!”

            “I love pancakes,” Marcus said with a crooked smile.

            “So I’m guessing you don’t want anything to eat, baby girl? Marcus fixed breakfast,” Abby called from behind them, cleaning up the kitchen.

            “No, but it looks yummy, Marcus!”

            “Thank you, Clarke. I’ll take yummy.” Marcus adjusted a strand of Clarke’s blonde hair, placing it behind her ear.

            “ _Yummy_ is high praise coming from my daughter. She’s picky!”

            Marcus chuckled. He stood and joined Abby to help clean the kitchen. “Go, spend time with your daughter. She missed you. I’ll clean up. I made the mess, after all.” Without thinking, he leaned in and kissed her on the lips tenderly.

            “EW,” shrieked Clarke who was watching their every move from the sidelines of the kitchen. “Is he your _boyfriend_?” The couple stood mortified, their faces blanching as Clarke giggled and teased away.

            “I guess I should talk to her,” Abby whispered.

            Marcus nodded. “Go. I’ll clean up.”

            While Marcus washed up the dishes and put them away (he preferred handwashing), Abby led Clarke to the leather couch in the living room, motioning for her daughter to join her on her lap. They sat in silence for a few moments, Abby searching for the right words to say. How does she explain such a complicated relationship to her child?

            “What do you think of Marcus?”

            “I like him,” Clarke grinned shyly. “Is he gonna be my new daddy?”

            Abby pulled Clarke against her chest into a tight hug. “Oh, no, sweetie. Your daddy is in Heaven.”

            “Is Marcus your boyfriend?”

            Abby’s mouth was agape, unsure what to say. She and Marcus hadn’t discussed the future yet. She’d just reconnected with him _last night_ after 25 years. The last time they were together they were children. Before she said anything, she caught Marcus’ gaze as he stood with one arm propped up against the archway connecting the kitchen to the living room/dining room area. His lip curled into a soft smile. He nodded.

            Abby smiled, her heart warmed. Without taking her eyes off of Marcus, she answered her daughter. “Yes. Yes he is, baby girl.”


	10. Magic Makes Forgetting Hard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spring 1995  
> Marcus and Abby attend senior prom. The next day, her parents give her an ultimatum.

_Spring 1995_

            “Say cheese!”

            Marcus and Abby stood arm in arm in front of Marcus’ Silverado Chevrolet as Vera Kane held up her giant Polaroid instant camera to take their picture. ( _It’s about time for her to upgrade to a new camera_ ). Marcus rubbed his eyes after the light flashed, stars darting around in his vison.

            “Marcus, you blinked,” his mother exclaimed, shaking the printed photo to get a better view. “Stay right there, I’ll take another!”

            “Mom,” Marcus groaned. Nevertheless, he obliged, taking Abby’s hand and posing for the camera once more.

            “That’s better,” Vera said, admiring the photograph in her hand. “You kids have fun. Don’t do anything that I wouldn’t do.”

            The young couple hugged Marcus’ mother goodbye and loaded into his Silverado. They were off to the gymnasium for their senior prom.

            Rich kids rolled up to the parking lot making a grand entrance in their shiny new Trans Ams or Corvettes that their doctor and lawyer parents bought for them. Marcus knew Abby could have had any guy that she wanted. Someone richer with a fancy sports car. Someone who wore designer clothes. But Abby chose him. As graduation got closer and as he looked around, seeing kids with far more wealth than he’d ever have, he knew he’d never be able to give Abby the life she deserved.

            “Marcus, are you okay?”

            Abby’s words jolted him from his self-pity. He shook his head, blinking his eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine. Ready to go in?”

            Abby smiled and offered him her arm, answering his question.

            Inside, kids were packed like sardines in the stuffy gymnasium. Marcus eyed the scene. One kid was hanging out around the punch bowl, a flask conspicuously hanging out of the pocket of his coat. The jocks were drinking sparkling grape juice and laughing as a group of cheerleaders did the macarena perfectly in sync with one another. Marcus didn’t feel like dancing or laughing or talking.

            “I’m getting a drink,” he said simply to Abby as he was already walking off towards the punch bowl.

            “Hey,” Marcus said, nodding at the kid with the flask in his pocket. He remembered the kid’s name was Dax.

            “Sup.”

            “Whatcha got there?” Marcus kept his voice to a whisper, just loud enough for Dax to hear him over the music of the Cha Cha Slide.

            Dax smirked. “A little somethin’ somethin’.” _Oh God, this kid is insufferable_. But Marcus needed something stronger than Kool-Aid. “But Mrs. Johnson has been on guard all evening. I can’t find a chance to slip it in.”

            Marcus bit his lip in thought. “Be right back.”

            He walked a few steps away where Mrs. Johnson stood guard, the red headed English 4 teacher who stood a solid 5 feet tall and probably weighed only 110 pounds soaking wet. Putting on his charms, he smiled kindly at her and cleared his throat. “Mrs. Johnson, how are you?”

            “Marcus Kane! It’s so good to see you. Are you having fun yet? Where’s Abby?”

            “Yes, ma’am, I’m havin’ a nice time. And it’s good to see you, too! Oh, Abby’s out on the dance floor with her friends, I’m just here to get us some drinks,” he lied. He wasn’t even sure Abby was. He took off too fast to even consider it. “Look, I’m sure it’s nothin’, but I thought I saw two kids behind the bleachers across the gym, near the entrance to the guy’s locker room. Like I said, could be nothin’, or they could be gone by now, but I thought it was worth mentioning.”

            Mrs. Johnson went into teacher mode and Marcus could imagine her slipping on her metaphorical tactical gear as he spoke. “I’m on it. Thank you Marcus!” And off she went, leaving the punch bowl completely unattended. As she made her way across the gym, Marcus gave Dax the go ahead with a nod. Dax peeled the flask from his coat pocket and quietly poured all of the liquid into the punch, Marcus readily keeping guard. After slipping the flask back into his pocket and a few quick stirs of the punch, Dax was filling two cups up for Marcus.

            “First one’s for you. Thanks for the help, man.”

            “No problem, Dax. See ya.”

            Marcus weaved his way through the crowd to find Abby, only she’d spotted him first.

            “What the hell is wrong with you,” she asked in a huff.

            Marcus shrugged. “Nothing. Here, some punch.” He offered her a cup.

            “No, I’m not thirsty. I’d just like to spend time with my _boyfriend_ without him abandoning me as soon as we walk through the front doors.”

            “Alright, fine. Let’s find a place to sit down. No need to get so pissy with me. Goddamn.”

            “I wouldn’t be pissy if you would just think about what you’re doing,” she mumbled under her breath behind him as he pushed through the crowd to grab them a table near the DJ.

            Marcus’ nostrils flared and he sighed but thought it best not to comment. Instead, he took a seat at the table and quickly downed the cup of punch Abby didn’t want, placing the empty cup to the side. They both sat quietly in their seats, Abby’s arms crossed and her eyes on the dance floor watching all the couples having fun, while Marcus continued to nurse his second cup of punch.

            Marcus never did mind silence, but for Abby he knew she couldn’t stand it for very long. First came the loud sigh. Then the opening of her mouth. Next was the closing of her mouth. Finally, she’d open it again and facing him, she’d speak.  

            “Why’d you run off?” She was facing him then, her arms still crossed.

            Despite the drink he’d been sipping on, his mouth grew dry. “I told you, I went to get a drink.”

            “You’re acting strange. I know that this isn’t exactly your _scene_ but you could at least try.”

            He scoffed.

            “What,” she probed, her slim fingers drumming against the plastic table covered in a white table cloth.

            “Nothin’.” She didn’t deserve any of this. She certainly didn’t deserve him. But he wasn’t about to let his sour mood ruin her senior prom. He pushed past his insecurities and took a deep breath. “What do you wanna do? Dance?”

            She shrugged. “Beats sitting here sulking for reasons unknown.”

            Downing his last cup of punch, he wiped his mouth with his coat sleeve and offered Abby his hand.

            They danced along with their mismatched group of friends (Theo, Jacapo, Callie, Aurora, and Diana) to _This is How We Do It_ and _Gangsta’s Paradise_ , Marcus pathetically trying to keep up with the likes of Abby—who was a natural dancer—and Theo. The music and friends and the booze (most likely the booze) helped ease Marcus’ mind for the evening, allowing him to enjoy the rest of the night with his friends and girlfriend. He may never understand it, but Abby chose him. And if she’s happy, he’s happy.

* * *

 

_The Next Evening_

            With prom over, the next big event in high school was graduation. Abby and Marcus had talked about it before but they usually kept it brief. He was going to stay here and find a job, save up enough money to eventually go to trade school and Abby was going to go off to college in Baltimore and she’d call and write and visit every weekend. They had it all figured out, she thought, until her parents threw a wrench in their plans.

            “Why waste money when you’re just going to throw your life away,” her mother said, a glass of chardonnay being waved around in one hand as she spoke. She could never speak without using her hands, something Abby had inherited from her. “Marcus will just drag you down. You’re too young to understand that right now, Abigail.” Abby stood in shock, tears prickling at her eyes. She directed her gaze to her father who merely stood on the sidelines, stoic. Hardened. His silence told her all she needed to know.

            “I love him,” Abby croaked, wiping the tears from her eyes. The two people who were supposed to love her more than anything have just broken her heart. She was sure they’d grow to love Marcus. He was an amazing man. Good-hearted, gentle, loving. But all her parents seemed to care about was his social status and what hers would become if she were to stay with him.

            “Ruin your life, fine by us. We won’t stop you but we won’t help you either.” Her mother arched a heavily plucked eyebrow and took another sip of wine.

            “What’s that supposed to mean, mother?”

            “Your little fling has gone on long enough. We’re cutting you off. If you want to go to college, you’ll have to find your own way to pay for it. And find your own place to live, too. If you want the freedom of being an adult, you’ll have to accept the responsibilities that come along with it. We’re not wasting our dollars just for you to throw you life away with some white-trash _hick_.”

            Her mother’s words cut her like a dagger. Abby nearly lost her footing, bracing herself against the kitchen island. Her mind spun as she gripped against the granite countertop.

            “You can’t do that,” she said, repeatedly. She spoke it quietly at first until it turned into an angry scream. “YOU CAN’T DO THAT!”

            “Yes we can, young lady, and if you don’t watch your tone, you can find someplace else to sleep for the night.”

            “Don’t worry about that, mother. This is the last place I want to be.”

            With that, Abby stormed to her room upstairs and quickly shoved some belongings into an overnight bag. She couldn’t leave her own home fast enough. The only person on her mind to find was Marcus.

            When she finally reached his trailer, he met her on the porch with a hug. “What’s wrong?” He spoke in a low voice filled with concern as he brushed a strand of stray hair from her face.

            Abby could barely speak. She heaved and babbled into his shoulder as he rubbed her back, willing her to calm down and take deep breaths. Eventually, pieces of her story seeped out in between her sobs.

            “We could move in together,” she said, her sobs finally subsiding.

            “Where would we go, Abby?”

            “ _Here._ You, me, your mom. I’ll get a job and I’ll help pay my part. I’ll even help with housekeeping.”

            “No, Abby,” Marcus said firmly. She recoiled slightly at his tone. “You need to go to college.” His eyes studied the rickety floorboards of the screen-in porch.

            “Marcus, I don’t care about college. All I care about is _you_. You, me, together. It’s all I want.”

            His shoulders sank. “I care about you, too, Abby. That’s why I can’t let you go through with this. Please, don’t ruin your life because of me.”

            Abby shook her head in disbelief. “I’m not ruining my life. And it’s not because of you. It’s because of my parents. They’re classist assholes. All they care about is wealth and status. All I want is you, Marcus,” she protested.

            He turned away, plucked at a piece of paint that was falling off the porch railing. “It _is_ because of me. You know that and I know that, Abby.” He willed himself to face her once more, taking her shoulders in his hands. “This is your _life_ we’re talking about. And… I can’t be apart of it anymore. It’s hurt me enough to see me be the cause of this wedge being driven between you and your parents. It killed me last night to see other kids roll up in their fancy sports cars to prom and us in my old Chevy. You could have any guy you want, Abby. Yeah, all of that is kid stuff but this… College… It’s a big deal. And I’m tired of you missing out on things because of me.” He dropped his hands to his sides and sighed.

            Abby was crying again. She shook her head, barely able to speak. Her heart felt as if it was going to beat out of her chest. “What are you trying to say Marcus?”

            It was silent for a while, nothing but the sound of crickets in the yard and the faint commercial jingle blaring from the tv inside the trailer. Vera was home. She could probably hear every word they said, but she was never one to intervene if she wasn’t welcome. However, part of her wished Vera would come speak some sense into her son.

            “Maybe your parents are right,” Marcus finally said.

            “No! You don’t mean that.” She spoke with pure terror in her voice. She was about to lose the only boy she’s ever loved and she couldn’t believe it was happening.

            “Go home Abby,” he said, barely audible. “And don’t try to get me to change my mind, because I will, and then I’d never be able to live with myself for ruining your life.”

            Her sobs were uncontrollable. She reached out a shaking hand and tried to grab his.

            “GO,” he snapped. “We’re done. It’s over. It was a high school fling, nothing more.”

            “You don’t mean that!”

            “Abby, go. Now.”

            Marcus turned and walked into the trailer, slamming the door in her face. Abby stood, lifeless and shaking, her tears falling in uncontrollable, salty waves down her flushed cheeks. She stood, waiting for him to open the door again, waiting for him to take her in his strong arms, kiss her, and tell her he was sorry and it was all going to be okay. That _they_ were going to be okay. But he never showed. She waited until the lights turned off inside the trailer before she finally gave up and retreated back home—the last place she wanted to be.

* * *

 

_Inside the Kane’s Trailer_

            “You ended it,” Vera said simply as she munched on a pork rind, rocking in her recliner as Seinfeld played on the 1980s model Phillips television set.

            “Did I do the right thing,” Marcus asked as he took a seat on the lumpy plaid colored sofa, resting his face in his palms.

            Vera continued to munch, scratched her chin in thought. “I dunno, kid. There’s a lot of magic ‘tween you two, ain’t no denyin’ that. And magic… Well, magic makes forgettin’ hard.” She then stood and turned off the television set before taking a seat beside her son on the sofa, embracing him for as long as he needed. He cried into her shoulder until her arms fell asleep and her eyelids grew heavy. She patted him on the back and stood to turn out the light before heading to bed.

            “She’s still out there,” Vera spoke in a low, sad whisper as she peered out the window through a hole in the tattered blinds.

            “It’s killing me that I’ve hurt her like this. But I can’t be the reason she throws her life away.”

            Vera nodded and turned out the light. She kissed Marcus on the top of his head and said goodnight, then: “You did the right thing, son.”

            Before going to bed, Marcus went into the kitchen and filled a glass with tap water. As he took a sip, his eyes fell on the refrigerator, a Polaroid photograph of him and Abby before yesterday’s prom. He smiled sadly then broke down. With his free hand, he pulled the photograph out from under the magnet and threw it into the trash bin.

           


	11. Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 2020: Marcus bonds with Clarke. Marcus and Abby have a proper date.

May 2020

            Marcus and Abby sat on the black leather sofa in her living room, Paw Patrol playing softly in the background as a curly-headed little girl sat cross-legged in between the couple, sucking on her thumb. Her mother quietly reminded her that 8-year-olds shouldn’t be sucking their thumbs as she gently removed her hand from her mouth. Clarke donned a pouty face and Marcus knew it was time for him to try to redirect the conversation.

            “Hey, Clarke,” he said in an animated tone, the deep rasp still evident in his voice despite its inflection. “What kinda music do you like to listen to?”

            “ROCK N ROLL,” the child excitedly shouted as she feigned playing the drums. Marcus chuckled as he looked on, the wild-haired child headbanging and humming “I Wanna Rock N Roll All Night” while her mother covered her face.

            “Now that’s A+ parenting, right there.”

            “Her daddy liked rock music.”

            Marcus smiled softly. “Oh, well that’s cool. I like it, too!” As Clarke settled back down and began to focus once more on the television, Marcus directed his eyes towards Abby. “And what kind of music does mommy listen to?”

            Abby’s eyes darted to the floor as she furrowed her brow.

            “Oh no. Don’t tell me… Are you a pop country fan?”

            Silence overtook her as she bit her lip.

            “Abby! No!”

            “Luke Bryan is just _so cute_! And the songs are catchy!”

            Marcus rubbed the back of his head and glanced down at his watch. “Oh, look at the time, I should go.” He darts up off of the sofa until a hand grabbed his forearm, tugging him back down.

            “Nope, you’re stuck here with us until at least another hour.” Abby rested her arm on Marcus’ shoulder, gently running her fingers back and forth. He reached out and kissed her hand, a jolt of electrifying desire running through him. For a moment, he’d forgotten Clarke was sitting between them.

            “Only another hour,” Marcus asked, taking her hand into his own.

            “Yes. Because then you need to go home, clean up, and come back this evening to pick me up and take me on a proper date.”

            He smiled warmly and nodded. “Yes ma’am.”

            As Clarke climbed onto the floor to play with her barbies in her doll house, Abby found her chance to stretch out on the couch, placing her head on Marcus’ lap. They sat in silence, watching proudly as a piece of Abby’s heart played in childlike imagination with her beloved dolls. Marcus’ heart ached. He already loved Clarke and he’d just met her, but he couldn’t help but find himself wanting his own child with Abby. _One day_ , he told himself.

            The hour passed by quickly and before they knew it, it was time for Marcus to head home so the both of them could get ready for their date. Before taking an Uber home, he told Abby to dress casual for their date. She shot him a look of curiosity, but he wouldn’t answer any of her questions.

* * *

 

            By 5 o’clock sharp he’d stepped out of his black Jeep Wrangler. The top on the Jeep was down and alternative music was blaring. His dark wavy hair was wind-blown and he wore a pair of dark blue jeans and a black t-shirt that fit him snugly around his biceps and pecs. He tore off his sunglasses and hooked them onto the collar of his t-shirt as he climbed out of the Jeep. Abby met him halfway between the front steps and the street. As they embraced, her face found the crook of his neck. He smelled of cinnamon and red cedar. He led her to the Jeep, hand in hand, and opened the passenger side door for her.

            “Thank you,” she said in a cloying exaggeration of a curtsy. Marcus merely smiled and shook his head as he made his way around to the driver’s side of the Jeep.

            “What happened to the Silverado,” Abby asked as Marcus started up the vehicle.

            “I still have it,” he said as they began to drive off. “I’m just doing some repairs on it right now. Besides, this is my goin’-out vehicle.”

            Abby grinned. “It’s nice!” She rubbed the shiny leather interior. A laugh suddenly escaped her. She clicked her tongue. “You know, I never forgot how to drive a stick.”

            “Really?”

            “Yeah. You were a good teacher.” She placed a hand on his knee and rubbed her thumb up and down slowly. Marcus suddenly found it difficult to focus on the road.

            He cleared his throat. “That visit with your mom was… interesting. I hadn’t expected her to be so… _nice_.”

            “I’m relieved that it went well,” Abby said in a sigh. “It went as well as an unexpected visit from Pat Walters can go, given the situation of the matter.” She paused and watched the powerlines drift past as Marcus drove down the highway. She hadn’t even asked him where they were going. She’d known him long enough to know she’d get no information from him, no matter how hard she pressed. She directed her attention back to him. “Pat apologized to me years ago for what she did- pushing me away for loving you. Our relationship never was perfect but it was never quite the same after that night. After she kicked me out. After you broke up with me.” Her voice cracked.

            Marcus deflated. “Abby, I’m so sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing but I… I’ve regretted every day since.” He took her hand in his and kissed it, the skin of her hand feeling like silk against his lips.

            She smiled at him. “Looks like things are working out in the end. That’s what matters.”

            As they drove deeper into the country, a plethora of memories began to flood Abby’s mind, and she knew exactly what he had in mind. “This scenery looks awfully familiar,” she said in a knowing voice, an eyebrow raised.

            “You’re catchin’ on, I see,” he said with a smirk. “I hope it isn’t too simple.”

            “Nothing’s ever simple with you, Marcus Kane. I don’t care where we go, as long as we’re together.” She leaned over and tenderly kissed his cheek, his beard tickling her lips. She felt him smile before she pulled away and when she finally did, she could see he was beaming.

            They pulled off the highway and onto a red dirt road. _It hasn’t changed_ , Abby thought to herself. It was almost identical to how it looked when she was a teenager, only slightly more overgrown.

            It wasn’t long before they met a grassy patch and Marcus put the Jeep in park. Abby’s eyes scanned for the familiar landmark but it was nowhere in sight. Her heart sank. Marcus walked around to her side of the Jeep and opened the door for her. As she climbed out of the Jeep, she frowned.

            “What’s wrong,” Marcus asked, his brow furrowed.

            “I don’t see the tree…” Her low, broken voice was nearly carried off with the gust of wind blowing in from the nearby Carolina coast.

            Marcus nodded. “Oh,” he said, sounding relieved. He smiled softly, the age lines around his eyes becoming more dominant.

            “The tree is down that path a ways, remember? One time you wore a pair of uncomfortable heels and halfway you couldn’t walk anymore so I carried you.”          

            Abby snickered. “That’s right! I totally forgot. And they were wedges, not heels.”

            “Same difference,” he said as he rolled his eyes. He opened up the back door of the Jeep and removed a picnic basket from the backseat. “Ready,” he asked, holding up the basket.

            Abby nodded. “Lead the way, cowboy.”

            She beamed as the live oak tree came into view, standing strong and tall as ever. Once they reached the tree, she raised a tentative hand and hovered over the engraved heart. _AW + MK_. Tears pricked her dark brown eyes. “Still would’ve been less sloppy if you would’ve let me do it,” she joked, blinking away the tears from her eyes and wiping them away before her mascara began to run.

            “You’ll never let me live that down will ya? It… kind of looks like a heart.”

            “More like an oval.”

            Marcus merely rolled his eyes and shrugged, a smile creeping up on his face. He offered her a weathered hand and lead her a few steps away to an open, grassy field, still shaded by the looming oak.

            “Dance with me.”

            Abby raised a eyebrow. “But there’s no music.”

            “It’s in here.” He raised a finger and rested it in between her breasts.

            So they danced. A melody of crickets played in the background. They held one another under the falling North Carolina sun as closely as they could while Abby swayed to the rhythm of Marcus’ heartbeat.

* * *

 

            He could feel her long fingers tugging on the back of his t-shirt as she swayed. It was pure silence aside from their breathing and the occasional egret, flapping its long wings as it flew by. He took in her scent. She smelled of lavender and a warm summer’s night. His eyes drew to her shoulders and he loved how the setting orange sun fell on the curvature of her tiny yet toned frame.

            Once they finished dancing, Marcus laid out the blanket for the picnic and opened up the basket. Inside the basket held pimento cheese, white bread, Lays potato chips, a metal container of sweet iced tea, and two mason jars.

            Marcus poured each of them a glass of tea as Abby sat crossed legged across from him, smoothing out the plaid blanket, plucking away a leaf that was blown in from the wind and throwing it aside.

            “No moonshine this time around?”

            “No,” Marcus snorted. “ _Hangovers hurt more than they used to_ ,” he used an over-exaggerated southern accent as he sang the familiar tune.

            “Truer words have never been spoken. How fun it is, getting old.”

            “ _Old_? Hell, we’re in our prime! Middle-age is the point where youth and experience meet.”

            “And we’re still hot,” she winked.

            “Cheers to that.”

            “Cheers.”

            Their mason jars clinked, a droplet of tea spilling over out of his glass. He wiped his hand off on the blanket and prepared them each a pimento cheese sandwich and a handful of chips on a paper plate.

            “Oh my God, I haven’t ate pimento cheese in _years_.”

            He smiled. “Hope you still like it.”

            Abby took a bite into the sandwich and let out a groan of satisfaction. “Tastes like old times.”

* * *

 

            “Why didn’t you ever write me back?”

            Marcus expression softened. He wiped the crumbs from his beard with a napkin and took a sip of sweet tea.

            “I did what had to be done.”

            “Oh don’t give me that bullshit.” She was smiling, but she was serious.

            “I did what I thought was right. I couldn’t stand being the wedge that drove you and your parents apart. And I didn’t want to keep you from goin’ to college, livin’ out your dream of becoming a doctor. You deserved more than staying in this nothin’ town, workin’ 9-5 for minimum wage all on account of me.”

            Marcus took her hands in his and then reached into his back pocket where he revealed an old Polaroid photograph. It was a picture of them from their senior prom, all crumpled up and stained.

            “The night we broke up, I threw this in the trash. Mom salvaged it the next morning. I never knew about it ‘til I was helping her move out of the old house. Found it in a box with some old family albums.”

            Tears welled up in Abby’s eyes as she took the photograph from his hand to get a better look. They were so young then, so full of love and life. She found herself often wishing to go back to those simpler times but now that Marcus was back in her life, she doesn’t have to wish for the past because now she finally has the future to look forward to.

* * *

            They had finished their picnic and the sun had gone down. Marcus lit four candles which he placed on each corner of the blanket. Abby laid between his legs as they rested in the comfort of the southern summer’s silence. Her fingers stroked his beard as he propped his head on her shoulder.

            “Why’d you never marry,” she asked, finally breaking the silence.

            “Because no matter who I would have married, she wasn’t you, and that wouldn’t have been fair to either one of us.”

            “Marcus…”

            “I never stopped loving you,” he croaked. His voice caught in his throat. “I’m sorry for pushing you away, Abby.”

            He pushed himself up and turned her around to face him. He pulled out a silver ring with a small diamond in the middle.

            Abby gasped. “Marcus, what is this?” She struggled to find her breath.

            “I’ll buy you a better one, I promise. But I’ve held onto this for 25 years.”

            “What are you doing?”

            “What I should have done a long time ago.”

            He lifted her up and as she stood, he got down on one knee. In his hands he held the ring which he bought for Abby a few months before graduation. He’d worked extra hours at the auto parts store to save up for a ring that wouldn’t turn her finger green. A ring that she’d be proud to wear. The diamond was small but he knew she’d love it. Over the years he’d kept the ring free of tarnish in hopes that the next time he’d see her, he’d finally be able to give it to her.

            “Abby, for 25 years I’ve kept this ring. It’s not much, I know. I had plans on giving it to you all those years ago but life had other plans for us. Now it seems like life or fate or God or whatever has given us a second chance to love. I’ll do right by you, I can promise you that.

            Abigail Walters, will you make me the happiest man that’s ever lived by being my wife?”

            He felt as though his heart was going to beat out of his chest as he watched her bring her hand to her mouth, then to her face, wiping away the tears that couldn’t seem to stop falling.

            “Yes. Yes, of course!”

            Marcus slid the ring on her finger. Barely making it over her knuckle, it was a snug fit but she couldn’t stop staring at it. He stood and took her in his arms. He lifted her up and spun around as their lips met. As they broke apart and he put her back down on her feet, she was holding up the ring near the candlelight and she was smiling.

            “Like I said, I’ll get you a better ring to wear on your ring finger. We can resize that one and you can wear it on your right hand if you’d like.”

            “No, this is perfect. I don’t want another ring. Thank you, Marcus.”

            “You sure?”

            “Absolutely.”

            “I love you.”

            “I love you more.”

* * *

 

_Summer 1994_

            He could feel the chill prick his skin as he heard the thunder roll in. The sky turned a dark grey almost suddenly. They walked hand in hand on the beach. He carried her wedges in his free hand. Occasionally she’d let go to do spins and twirls across the sand as they walked, dancing along to whatever song was playing in her head—a melody that only she was privy to. He felt a raindrop hit the bridge of his nose and then another. He looked up and the sky had gotten darker, nearly black now.

            “It’s fixin’ to storm, Ab. We should head back.”

            The wind picked up as the storm began brewing. Abby let go of Marcus’ hand and instead of doing another twirl like he’d expected, she darted off, making a bee line for the ocean and its receding tide.

            “Hey,” he called to her back. “What are you doing?” But his words were swallowed up by the air.

            “Abby,” he groaned. He set her shoes down in the sand and took off in a jog after her. She’d made a trail of clothing in her path—her tank top, her jean shorts, and now, her bra. She held the black piece of material up with one hand and spun it around as she hollered.

            “WOO!”

            “Jesus, Abby, someone could see you!”

            “Who’s gonna be out on the beach in the middle of a thunderstorm, Marcus?”

            “Nobody if they’re _smart_. Now come on, you could get struck by lightning!”

            “Oh, Kane. Live a little. Come on in, the water’s fine.” She kicked a bronzed leg up in the air, splashing him with the salty water.

            He shook his head. “You’re insane,” he called out over the wind and thunder. He couldn’t believe how reckless this was, but Abby Walters was topless in the ocean and he knew he just had to join her.

            “You’ll pay for splashing me!” He stripped down to his boxers and chased after her, grabbing her by the waist and slamming her down into the water just as she was about to escape his reach.

            As the rain began to fall, they held to one another, floating freely in the Atlantic, riding the waves as they pushed in and out.

            “I’m gonna marry you one day, Abigail Walters.”

            “Promise?”

            “Promise.”


End file.
